


The Tale of the Tuna

by PineapplePrincess



Category: Calvin & Hobbes
Genre: Character Study, Comfort Food, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Five Times, Food Porn, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up, Humor, Kid Fic, Magical Realism, Sandwiches, Stuffed Toys, Tiger Like Behavior, Tuna - Freeform, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 01:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16567355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineapplePrincess/pseuds/PineapplePrincess
Summary: The tale of how Hobbes developed his distinct love for tuna fish sandwiches.Naturally, Calvin's involved.





	The Tale of the Tuna

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BardicRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardicRaven/gifts).



Hobbes can remember exactly where and when he caught his first whiff of tuna. He had been a cub of no more than two years from the day his last stitch was closed, crammed as he had always been in the early days, between Calvin’s smushed-up little baby face and the rails of his playpen, his little hand sprawled out over Hobbes’ paw, curing and uncurling as if he were trying to grab hold of the world and squeeze it. It was, Hobbes thought, quite an agreeable change from the jungle – every animal he knew there was so uncivilized! - and the stuffy environs of the toy shop where Calvin’s family had found him.

Hobbes had been the first thing – besides Calvin’s father’s nose, his mother’s hair, and a few stray pennies that they had quickly removed from his touch before they ended up in his ears – that Calvin had ever succeeded in picking up in his tiny grip. So the first time Hobbes ever understood what tuna was, was because Calvin had picked him up and held on to him. Six month sold, squirming, his grip on Hobbes’ ear had been tighter than the squish of a smooch-happy dame. 

And much louder. Calvin was born screaming louder than a B-1 bomber.

Hobbes – wrapped up in Calvin’s grip as his father bounced them both up and down and tried to outwalk Calvin’s tears – first caught whiff of something as they passed the kitchen. Something delightfully fishy. Something that took him all the way back to his hunting days from his cubhood. 

“Dearest, don’t eat that tunafish sandwich around Calvin!” Calvin’s mother said, her cross expression so intensely wearisome that Hobbes wondered if he wouldn’t be better off being cuddled in her arms. “You’ll make his upset stomach worse.”

“I hardly think that’s possible,” his father said, rubbing Calvin’s back. “I’m down-wind of him.”

“Obviously, since I can smell it.” 

So could Hobbes, who took a mental note of the substance’s name. Tuna. The enchanting food was called tuna.

Hobbes was careful in cadging his first taste of the enchanting fish. When Calvin finally fell back to sleep and his father wearily dropped into the easy chair in the playroom, Hobbes was stuck between his knee and the cushion of the chair. Calvin’s father had finished his meal in the room, and there was just enough of a toasted crust and a blob of mayo, tuna and celery left for Hobbes to try. It was a difficult task, to squirm his way northward and take a swipe of the mix and tuck it into his mouth, but Hobbes did it.

And when he finally felt that stuff coat his tongue, it was sweeter to him than honey and more wonderful than a cookie. He moaned softly and then sighed, enchanted, resting against Calvin’s father’s knee, happy and sated.  
  


It was a flawless crime, even if Calvin’s parents did fight for awhile over which of them had managed to get tuna on Hobbes’ face.

****

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The first time Calvin realized Hobbes was real, he got him a tunafish sandwich. Hobbes sat on the table and watched him make it, slopping mayo on the floor, spilling packing water from the tuna cans and dripping milk onto the floor. Hobbes thought he was a fine sandwich maker and couldn’t complain, really.

Except it was a little dry. Maybe.

****

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Calvin got into an art college, and his parents made jokes about having sacrificed a lot of souls to Satan to get him there. Calvin rolled his eyes, his once trusty blond spikes now bright pink and a lip ring hanging from his bottom lip. Hobbes, who hung out on the edge of his bed instead of acting as a trusted confidant, had never quite gotten used to the change in his best friend. When he wanted to complain about the ills of society, he mostly complained to Susie, who rolled her eyes and told him that practicality was just as important a roll as rebellion in the restructuring of the human condition. He kissed her between the eyes and told her how clever she was.

Hobbes complained that HE was just as cuddly, but Calvin told him that he was a lousy smoocher.

Hobbes had never been so insulted in his whole life.

The day before Calvin packed to leave, to his surprise, Hobbes was presented with a tuna sandwich and a glass of milk.

“For old time’s sake, pal,” he said.

Hobbes thought to himself that it didn’t feel like old times at all. And that Calvin had finally figured out the mayonnaise ratio.

****

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Hobbes was only sort of annoyed to share a centerpiece with Mister Bun at Calvin and Susie’s wedding. What had Mister Bun done to push their relationship forward? How many times had he told Calvin that Susie was the girl for him while he stuck his tongue out and gagged?

Mister Bun, sitting beside Hobbes in a smart cummerbund, said that Susie had always come to him, had always cried to him, and he had every right to be there.

Hobbes sighed and accepted it. When a chunk of grilled tuna and a tiny bit of celery canape were left for him to try, he decided he might even get to like the new situation.

****

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Calvin’s breath smelled like tuna.

It always seemed to these days -mostly because tunafish was the easiest and quickest meal he could put together while running back and forth to the hospital. He also had terrible bags under his eyes and a silly, goofy grin on his face.

“Come with me, old pal,” Calvin said, tucking him under his arm.

Hobbes hadn’t been outside the house since Calvin and Susie had moved in together, so he understood immediately that this was going to be an important event. He sat up a little straighter and tried to look as dignified as possible as he was driven a short distance, then carried through the bleached-white walls of a hospital.

Calvin barged right into the room and Hobbes could barely see who he was speaking to thanks to the angle of his body against Calvin’s armpit.

“I told you to bring Mister Bun,” Susie said.

“Babe, I don’t want one of the first things he sees to be Mister Bun! That guy’d give anybody nightmares, let alone a newborn.”

“Ha! You just wanted Hobbes to be there for the big day.”

“If I say you’re right, will you make fun of me a little more quietly?”

She smiled. “I make no promises.”

Suddenly, Hobbes was being held upright. He could see Susie lying in the bed, with a small bundle in her arms capped with a blue hat. 

“Hobbes,” he said, with all due grandness, “this is George.” Hobbes was nestled against Susie’s chest, close enough so that the baby’s light blue eyes could meet his. “George, this is Hobbes.”

Hobbes stared at the baby. He was very clearly freshly born, with a squashy, red face and a bit of blond hair peeking out all spikey from beneath his cap. Hobbes wondered who this baby would be when he was older. Would he like sledding, snowmen, running through the woods, and tuna? Would he like Hobbes at all or scorn him? All was a mystery now.

The baby blew a bubble in Hobbes’ direction. They eyed one another with curious interest.

One small, delicate hand reached out from the blankets and patted the tip of Hobbes’ nose.

He considered it a sign of approval, and wondered how long it would take the kid to learn how to walk to the kitchen.


End file.
